Just saw The Lonely Forest as MS Studios. A young band that shows promise but doesn't know when to step up to the plate. Next band is late due to bus trouble.
September 19th, 2009
MFNW Day 3: I think I like The Like. An unexpected chick band who are all way to young and way to pretty. Solid performance, but not stand out.
Check the time stamp. Despite the lead being sick and wearing nothing but a short skirt and (thankfully) briefs Deer Tick is still going strong. awesome band
September 17th, 2009
Helio Sequence was also great. They did a genuine encore. Venue turned on the lights and music, people started leaving, then BAM, the band comes back on WOOT
MFNW report: Dr.Dog was freakin' awesome. And I only had one over priced PBR. Seriously, $4 for a PBR pounder? I can get a 6 pack for that. The fuck?!)
August 27th, 2009
Eash of us, in 'is own waaay, mus' learn to deal wi' life's adversity in a mawture and addult fashion.
August 19th, 2009
During my long and (in)glorious time as a freelance thinker, which sounds better than unemployed shiftless layabout, I had time to ponder many things. Most are not fit for publication even on the trash heap of malformed logic and stupidity that is the internet. One train of thought, though, managed to make it from station to station long enough to be considered cohesive, dare I say, even worthwhile. Even better, I feel that it has some bearing on recent events in our country.
Or I'm talking out my ass again. You be the judge.
I pondered awhile ago why during the last quarter of the 18th century a number of self governing communities of mostly English origin along the eastern coast of the North America managed to successfully create a democratic form of government while in the period of my life, hundred of years later and with the advanced knowledge of democracy and the practice of democratic government that that time has brought, there have been so many failed attempts at creating working democracies. For the record, I know that the USA is not strictly a democratic government but rather a republic. And further that probably all of the failed, failing, or simply struggling democracies that I pondered are also not proper democracies. Yet it is the democratic aspect of our and other governments that I was thinking about, i.e. the actions of the populace in the workings of the government, so I will refer to governments as democratic.
We know the public workings of a democracy, at least in theory. Some subsection of the population, selected from the entirety of the populace by criteria of age, sex, status, or all too frequently just plain apathy, votes for legislation or for upstanding citizens that will represent them in voting for legislation. The cause, whether a particular piece of legislation or candidate, that garners the majority of the votes wins. Done. The opposing causes lose. Done. The law of the land may define majority in different ways, 50%, two-thirds, or whatever, but once reached it's done. The losing side may counter in a number of ways, but at some point in time they must acknowledge the loss, regroup, and move on to the next battle.
And that, that right there, is the Achilles heel of democracy. Functioning democracies depend on all the parties involved in the system accepting the rule that the majority wins, and whether you love or hate the majorities decision, you have to stand by that process, to stand by democracy. It is the fundamental compromise that makes democracy as a form of government viable. To do otherwise is to suggest a change in government, not from one administration to another, but from a government that derives it's powers from the will of the populace to one that doesn't.
Famously, Churchhill once said something to the effect that Democracy is the worst form of government created by man, except for all of the others. The Tea Baggers, Birthers, Deathers, and general vocal portion of the Right are really upset about the things that make Democracy suck. They're upset that the portion of the country that outnumbers and out votes them is trying to do things that they don't like (discussion of their reasons for not liking the actions of the Progressive left is a different, long, and ultimately fruitless post). The Birthers in particular are taking that tact that the basis of the new leftist movement is not really in charge, having cheated his way into the White House. These Right wing group haven't quite gone to the point of excusing themselves from the system, but their tactics of dragging the legislative process to a halt, disrupting public meetings rather than engaging in dialog, and mostly just spreading misinformation and lies to scare people to their side are damn close. I fear that should these below the belt tactics fail to stop the progressive movement, and I really really hope that they do, then some (or more) of the wackier wingnuts will decide to break the deal, to disregard the basic compromise of democracy. If enough of them do this, and it probably doesn't have to be more than a few percent of the population, then the whole thing could fall apart, usually in an escalating cycle of violence if history is any judge.
Yup, definitely talking out of my ass.
Or I'm talking out my ass again. You be the judge.
I pondered awhile ago why during the last quarter of the 18th century a number of self governing communities of mostly English origin along the eastern coast of the North America managed to successfully create a democratic form of government while in the period of my life, hundred of years later and with the advanced knowledge of democracy and the practice of democratic government that that time has brought, there have been so many failed attempts at creating working democracies. For the record, I know that the USA is not strictly a democratic government but rather a republic. And further that probably all of the failed, failing, or simply struggling democracies that I pondered are also not proper democracies. Yet it is the democratic aspect of our and other governments that I was thinking about, i.e. the actions of the populace in the workings of the government, so I will refer to governments as democratic.
We know the public workings of a democracy, at least in theory. Some subsection of the population, selected from the entirety of the populace by criteria of age, sex, status, or all too frequently just plain apathy, votes for legislation or for upstanding citizens that will represent them in voting for legislation. The cause, whether a particular piece of legislation or candidate, that garners the majority of the votes wins. Done. The opposing causes lose. Done. The law of the land may define majority in different ways, 50%, two-thirds, or whatever, but once reached it's done. The losing side may counter in a number of ways, but at some point in time they must acknowledge the loss, regroup, and move on to the next battle.
And that, that right there, is the Achilles heel of democracy. Functioning democracies depend on all the parties involved in the system accepting the rule that the majority wins, and whether you love or hate the majorities decision, you have to stand by that process, to stand by democracy. It is the fundamental compromise that makes democracy as a form of government viable. To do otherwise is to suggest a change in government, not from one administration to another, but from a government that derives it's powers from the will of the populace to one that doesn't.
Famously, Churchhill once said something to the effect that Democracy is the worst form of government created by man, except for all of the others. The Tea Baggers, Birthers, Deathers, and general vocal portion of the Right are really upset about the things that make Democracy suck. They're upset that the portion of the country that outnumbers and out votes them is trying to do things that they don't like (discussion of their reasons for not liking the actions of the Progressive left is a different, long, and ultimately fruitless post). The Birthers in particular are taking that tact that the basis of the new leftist movement is not really in charge, having cheated his way into the White House. These Right wing group haven't quite gone to the point of excusing themselves from the system, but their tactics of dragging the legislative process to a halt, disrupting public meetings rather than engaging in dialog, and mostly just spreading misinformation and lies to scare people to their side are damn close. I fear that should these below the belt tactics fail to stop the progressive movement, and I really really hope that they do, then some (or more) of the wackier wingnuts will decide to break the deal, to disregard the basic compromise of democracy. If enough of them do this, and it probably doesn't have to be more than a few percent of the population, then the whole thing could fall apart, usually in an escalating cycle of violence if history is any judge.
Yup, definitely talking out of my ass.
July 20th, 2009
The video below is one of the reasons I look forward to a future of YouTube, blogs, and other publicly generated content. United Airlines apparently breaks this guy's guitar and then refuses to do anything about it. So he writes a song and puts out a video and now almost 3.5 million people have watched it. Take that, United!
PS: Still alive. Contrary to popular belief I can stop drinking beer and won't croak immediately. Granted, it hasn't even been a week yet.
PS: Still alive. Contrary to popular belief I can stop drinking beer and won't croak immediately. Granted, it hasn't even been a week yet.
July 8th, 2009
This is the part of work that I'd forgotten. The part where there are things for me to do, all the resources that I need to do them, and yet I'd really rather go take a nap or read a book. Thus continuing to sit here and try to focus is like eating some horrid thing that's "good for you" even though it tastes like old carpet.
On a different note I'm considering giving up beer for the summer. Not drinking, of course. Heavens forbid! Just beer. In recent months I've found that the sweet siren called of brewed grains kissed by thousand tongued yeast and steeped in bittersweet hops is a little too constant a joy. The alcohol isn't getting to me, the calories are. So out of curiosity I want to see what happens if I stop drinking it for a few months, at least until the batch that is brewing in my garage at the moment is done. All other things equal will I drop some weight or maintain at my relatively constant waistline? Until then I'll have to subsist off of summer wines and the occasional mint julip. Mmmm, mint julip....*droool* It's a good thing I can't make my own whiskey ;)
On a different note I'm considering giving up beer for the summer. Not drinking, of course. Heavens forbid! Just beer. In recent months I've found that the sweet siren called of brewed grains kissed by thousand tongued yeast and steeped in bittersweet hops is a little too constant a joy. The alcohol isn't getting to me, the calories are. So out of curiosity I want to see what happens if I stop drinking it for a few months, at least until the batch that is brewing in my garage at the moment is done. All other things equal will I drop some weight or maintain at my relatively constant waistline? Until then I'll have to subsist off of summer wines and the occasional mint julip. Mmmm, mint julip....*droool* It's a good thing I can't make my own whiskey ;)
June 22nd, 2009
I learned something awhile back while watching a cooking show. And not just any cooking show, but the excellent and informative Mr. Alton Brown and his show Good Eats. Besides the candor and charisma of the geeky host my favorite aspect of the show is the science behind the cooking that Mr. Brown presents. For instance during a show about BBQ pork he whipped out a clear gelatin mold full of pasta strands and proceeded to melt it, explaining that the gelatin represented the collagen of a meat that was slowly cooking in the BBQ and turning into a lovely slippery gravy that coated all of the strands of muscle fiber as reprsented by the pasta strands. Such a process was invented in primitive cultures, probably in the Americas, for breaking down the tough meat of wild boars and was most likely invented to break down the toughest meat of all, people.
All of that is to make a point. At one time in history it was completely normal for people to run over to those other guys over there, have a little battle, and then bring some of the neighbors over for a BBQ, a people BBQ. This was considered perfectly normal by people in both tribes and they practiced it for hundreds and hundreds of years. Now, of course, we consider such a practice not only barbaric in the extreme, but also a widely poor decision if you're trying to not catch every jungle spawned disease that your dinner may have had before coming to dinner. Main courses are notorious for not washing their hands before being tossed on the fire-pit after all.
Similarly I hope that people in the far future look back at our time and realize that waking up at 6am is not only terribly barbaric, but also unhealthy. After 14 months of being able to largely set my own sleep schedule to coincide with my own biology it is terribly distressing to now have to get up at 6am. I realize some of you have been doing this for quite awhile and see nothing wrong with it. But I tell you, you have been duped! It's people! Solent Greeen is People! Getting up at 6am is eating people, just because it's what you've always done doesn't make it right, good for you, or something to defend. We've all been duped by the fraction of people that naturally wake up that early into believing that everyone has to do that. These are the leaders of the cannibal raiding parties and must be stopped. I can't take a stand alone people, I need my job for at least 6 months before I can get back on unemployment.
Anywho, apart from the really long commute and thus needing to wake up so early the job is going all right. I pretty much get to start the QA department at this place as well as institute processes to help the place grow in a manageable and healthy way. It's a heck of a lot of responsibility actually. I hope that I'm up for it. And by up of course I mean awake, cause man do I start dragging by about 11am.
In other news: Pugs aren't as bad as they seem once they're trained a little bit. It turns out that I can control myself at an open bar and not totally go crazy at a wedding I'm not really invited to. I'm still a damn good roadie even after years off from the job. Beer shall be made next Sunday. All you need is two lunatics to start a crazy dance floor. Some walls are built with 1/4 inch sheet rock and therefore should not be run up. Time for bed.
All of that is to make a point. At one time in history it was completely normal for people to run over to those other guys over there, have a little battle, and then bring some of the neighbors over for a BBQ, a people BBQ. This was considered perfectly normal by people in both tribes and they practiced it for hundreds and hundreds of years. Now, of course, we consider such a practice not only barbaric in the extreme, but also a widely poor decision if you're trying to not catch every jungle spawned disease that your dinner may have had before coming to dinner. Main courses are notorious for not washing their hands before being tossed on the fire-pit after all.
Similarly I hope that people in the far future look back at our time and realize that waking up at 6am is not only terribly barbaric, but also unhealthy. After 14 months of being able to largely set my own sleep schedule to coincide with my own biology it is terribly distressing to now have to get up at 6am. I realize some of you have been doing this for quite awhile and see nothing wrong with it. But I tell you, you have been duped! It's people! Solent Greeen is People! Getting up at 6am is eating people, just because it's what you've always done doesn't make it right, good for you, or something to defend. We've all been duped by the fraction of people that naturally wake up that early into believing that everyone has to do that. These are the leaders of the cannibal raiding parties and must be stopped. I can't take a stand alone people, I need my job for at least 6 months before I can get back on unemployment.
Anywho, apart from the really long commute and thus needing to wake up so early the job is going all right. I pretty much get to start the QA department at this place as well as institute processes to help the place grow in a manageable and healthy way. It's a heck of a lot of responsibility actually. I hope that I'm up for it. And by up of course I mean awake, cause man do I start dragging by about 11am.
In other news: Pugs aren't as bad as they seem once they're trained a little bit. It turns out that I can control myself at an open bar and not totally go crazy at a wedding I'm not really invited to. I'm still a damn good roadie even after years off from the job. Beer shall be made next Sunday. All you need is two lunatics to start a crazy dance floor. Some walls are built with 1/4 inch sheet rock and therefore should not be run up. Time for bed.
June 13th, 2009
Alas, all good things must come to an end. Which is actually just a function of all things, good or bad, coming to some sort of end. This is probably for the better. Still, the good things seem to end quicker than the not so good things, which explains why I managed to stay unemployed for 410 days.
That's the end of it though. For Monday I start a new job doing the same old job. My grandiose plans to become a bartender have come to naught but a moderate bill for the school, which may still prove to be worth it in the fullness of time. The plus side is that it's a small dev firm that I got hired on with and that I'm the only QA guy, so I'll get to run the show. The downside of course is that I'll be the one to blame for things going wrong (or at least for things going wrong that I didn't know about. QA is kind of all about making things go wrong.) The other downside is that it'll take me about 80 minutes to get to work by bus and there's no work at home options. I've got some long days in front of me readjusting to the harsh life most of the rest of you have been living. It's probably for the best, which means it'll never last.
Later
That's the end of it though. For Monday I start a new job doing the same old job. My grandiose plans to become a bartender have come to naught but a moderate bill for the school, which may still prove to be worth it in the fullness of time. The plus side is that it's a small dev firm that I got hired on with and that I'm the only QA guy, so I'll get to run the show. The downside of course is that I'll be the one to blame for things going wrong (or at least for things going wrong that I didn't know about. QA is kind of all about making things go wrong.) The other downside is that it'll take me about 80 minutes to get to work by bus and there's no work at home options. I've got some long days in front of me readjusting to the harsh life most of the rest of you have been living. It's probably for the best, which means it'll never last.
Later
May 31st, 2009
I don't have anything to say anymore. Hence the rare times that I post to this blog. Anyone who's read this for the last year or so knows my central problem which is written in text and between the lines. It's not unemployment, it's what keeps me unemployed. It's not a lack of inspiration, it's what keeps my inspirations from bearing fruit. It's not narcolepsy, but that becomes an easy excuse.
I'm lazy. I'm unwilling to make a risky decision and stick to it. I'm irrationally afraid of asking people for a job. I don't have a word or syndrome that neatly describes all of that, but they are not separate issues. They feed off each other like a self contained ecosystem. It's all fear in one form or another, but that doesn't mean that I know how to conquer it or live with it I know how to avoid it, and I do that by doing nothing.
I'm lazy. I'm unwilling to make a risky decision and stick to it. I'm irrationally afraid of asking people for a job. I don't have a word or syndrome that neatly describes all of that, but they are not separate issues. They feed off each other like a self contained ecosystem. It's all fear in one form or another, but that doesn't mean that I know how to conquer it or live with it I know how to avoid it, and I do that by doing nothing.
May 6th, 2009
So I'm up in Olympia visiting ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
anyah7 who managed to break her leg in some gruesome way and needed a hand for the final week that she has to be in a wheel chair and can't put any real weight on the leg. Mostly it's been domestic servitude and hauling the wheelchair in and out of her Hybrid SUV. Sweet ride, I get to drive it a little bit - the car, not the wheelchair.
It's rained nearly non-stop since I got here, and not the kind of rain that I can easily ignore as that of melancholy February days. This is a constant solid soaking rain. The kind that you grow weary of waiting patiently to abate. Yet patient or not the rain continues. And more often than not I find myself having waited another hour or so by waking up with a grumble and sigh.
And as usual not getting things done. I'll try again tomorrow I guess.
anyah7 who managed to break her leg in some gruesome way and needed a hand for the final week that she has to be in a wheel chair and can't put any real weight on the leg. Mostly it's been domestic servitude and hauling the wheelchair in and out of her Hybrid SUV. Sweet ride, I get to drive it a little bit - the car, not the wheelchair.It's rained nearly non-stop since I got here, and not the kind of rain that I can easily ignore as that of melancholy February days. This is a constant solid soaking rain. The kind that you grow weary of waiting patiently to abate. Yet patient or not the rain continues. And more often than not I find myself having waited another hour or so by waking up with a grumble and sigh.
And as usual not getting things done. I'll try again tomorrow I guess.
April 28th, 2009
Yup, you read write. Today marks one full year of being unemployed, mooching off the system, and otherwise being a non-contributor to the economic/social structure that is supposedly the bedrock of these United States. Or so some would have you believe.
I can't honestly say that I've been entirely idle during this period, nor that I have not in some small way improved some people's lives. I've lifted burdens briefly from new made mothers, been a companion to those in need of companionship, given of myself, and in general been a righteous dude. This is the way of The Nick. Whatever else you can say about my character, my habits, or my contributions at least I take care of the people around me.
I need look no further to find fault than the number in the title. Sure I can make excuses about the economy being in the toilet or that my mismashed job history makes perspective employers wary of me and my mojo. But we all know that ain't it. The rotten pit at the center of this mess is that I don't want to work for someone else and I don't know how to work for myself.
Some weeks ago something that I was watching referenced the old saw about inspiration, perspiration, and success. In one of those recurring an ultimately useless realization I finally put together that I have inspiration by the bucketful, it's the work necessary to implement them that I am lacking. And even if the estimates about the amounts of inspiration and perspiration are slightly off it's still certain that much more of the latter is needed than the former.
I'm not suggesting that it's hopeless. I've been trying to work since then to not very promising results. Trips out of town, overnight guests, unexpected naps, etc. As I said, I don't know how to work for myself.
Well, tomorrow is another day.
I can't honestly say that I've been entirely idle during this period, nor that I have not in some small way improved some people's lives. I've lifted burdens briefly from new made mothers, been a companion to those in need of companionship, given of myself, and in general been a righteous dude. This is the way of The Nick. Whatever else you can say about my character, my habits, or my contributions at least I take care of the people around me.
I need look no further to find fault than the number in the title. Sure I can make excuses about the economy being in the toilet or that my mismashed job history makes perspective employers wary of me and my mojo. But we all know that ain't it. The rotten pit at the center of this mess is that I don't want to work for someone else and I don't know how to work for myself.
Some weeks ago something that I was watching referenced the old saw about inspiration, perspiration, and success. In one of those recurring an ultimately useless realization I finally put together that I have inspiration by the bucketful, it's the work necessary to implement them that I am lacking. And even if the estimates about the amounts of inspiration and perspiration are slightly off it's still certain that much more of the latter is needed than the former.
I'm not suggesting that it's hopeless. I've been trying to work since then to not very promising results. Trips out of town, overnight guests, unexpected naps, etc. As I said, I don't know how to work for myself.
Well, tomorrow is another day.
March 4th, 2009
Fat Bastard woke me up this morning at 7:00 looking for his usual free handout of gooshy food. Naturally I threw him out of the room, shut the door, and fell back into a fitful sleep waiting for my alarm to go off at 8. I've been sleeping poorly a lot recently. I suspect some sleep apnea may be developing on account of my being too god damn fat. So when I got up at 8 and finally fed his royal majesty The Cat I was still groggy and mostly non-functional. I managed to stay barely awake for an hour before stumbling back upstair with the intetion of getting dressed and going for a short run, short being all that my bloated physique can handle.
By the time I got dressed one of my roommates had woken up and stumbled downstairs. Part of my reasons for waking up at 8 instead of later in the morning which my addled brain would prefer was to avoid someone asking where I was going. I like to keep my exercise on the QT. I'm secretly ashamed that I want/have to do it at all, which is strange since I have few illusions that I'm a smaller species of land whale these days. With that flimsy excuse firmly in sight I slumped down into my bad and slipped in slow broken stages into sleep like a man drowning in high seas.
The fun thing about narcolepsy is that it totally messes up the sleep cycle which, in short, means I can fall asleep and immediately start dreaming. In this case I dreamed I was hanging out in a nice suburban house that reminded me of the many sterile modern apartments that I lived in in my mid 20s. There were three girls flitting about and drinking, despite it being early in the afternoon. Soon they were pulling their clothes off and dancing around, Then my roommate came home, though he isn't one of my current roommates and in fact I can't actually remember living with this guy before. He brought tacos and for some reason threw a couple of them at me, which splattered all over the carpet. In the back of my mind I still wanted to go running, so I announced that I would after I cleaned the carpet...even though at this point I realized that I was dreaming and needed to wake up. Still, as I sprayed cleaner on an guacamole splattered carpet that only existed somewhere between the synapses of my unconscious mind the roommate in my dream asked me, "How can you be yourself all the time?"
"Just be yourself, it's not that hard," I replied, spotting green goop up with a paper towel.
"That's a bullshit answer. Seriously, how do you get these girls and all these friends of yours to hang out?"
"Just being me. I gotta go running." I said blandly, then woke up and rolled out of bed.
On the sidewalks and paths of a local park I pondered the dream. My answer was bullshit. The real answer is "Fuck 'em." Do not worry about what people think. You can do that all day long and every conclusion you come to can easily be wrong, and if it's not who cares anyway. The second part of the answer is that I'm frequently not myself. I don't even know who that person is. I'm a scared little boy hoping that someone will tell me what to do so that I can get a pat on the back and a cookie.
It's about this time in my ruminations, a common pastime as I huff around the pavement, that a song came on my headphones which kinda laid it all to rest. I've been listening to Crooked Fingers pretty non-stop for about the last six months without really knowing why I'd been so entranced. This may be the first time that I'd really really listened to the lyrics.
Dignity and Shame
Cover me in mud and leaves
I won't be the one to fail you
I'm a thousand gargoyles standing by your window
To be sure there ain't no cure
There could be no one to save you
When the bad boys come to do you in again
So when they tell you things that you don't want to know
Or take you back to places you don't want to go
You've got to bury that knife
Keep your face in the light
Because there's one thing that they cannot do
Is take from you what you keep in mud and leaves
And if you walk, walk away, save yourself, you've got something to lose
And if you give what they take, you can bet they will take it from you
You're not the same as the day that you came
You can choose dignity or shame
You've got to bury your bones where you want in the ground
Where they will not be found by the leeches you're keeping alive
There's a man in your hand
And he's got nothing good to sell you
And he's smashing a violin against your bed
To be sure there ain't no cure
He comes creeping back to beg you
As thousand gargoyles crash into his head
And then that feeling comes you've been here once before
That wicked feeling you don't want to feel no more
You've got to bury that knife
That you keep stuck in your side
Before they dig that knife into you
And break into what you keep out of their reach
And if you walk, walk away, save yourself, you've got nothing to prove
And if you give what they take, you can bet they will take it from you
You're not the same as the day that you came
You can choose dignity or shame
You've got to carry your heart like a torch in the night
Little keeper of light burning deep, burning bright in the dark
Somehow it summed up that which constantly holds me back and holds me back. My constant struggle to paint a pretty face on what ever it is that I hide away from the rest of the world as it slowly kills me from the inside for want of air and light, for want of showing the world my true colors instead of a bland and doctored facade that I think is what people want to see. I don't want to exercise because I don't want people to see me jiggling down the sidewalk. I don't write what I want because I'm convinced it won't be "real" or that people won't like it. I drink and party and follow others lead because that's what the people want to see me. They want to see me struggling to stand and yet still throwing ping-pong balls at beer cups. Why do I give up so easily on my life and struggle so hard to keep up the life others see?
That's a bullshit answer. Any real answer is going to be written in a language of past accomplishments and present well-being that I may well never possess. But I can keep running.
By the time I got dressed one of my roommates had woken up and stumbled downstairs. Part of my reasons for waking up at 8 instead of later in the morning which my addled brain would prefer was to avoid someone asking where I was going. I like to keep my exercise on the QT. I'm secretly ashamed that I want/have to do it at all, which is strange since I have few illusions that I'm a smaller species of land whale these days. With that flimsy excuse firmly in sight I slumped down into my bad and slipped in slow broken stages into sleep like a man drowning in high seas.
The fun thing about narcolepsy is that it totally messes up the sleep cycle which, in short, means I can fall asleep and immediately start dreaming. In this case I dreamed I was hanging out in a nice suburban house that reminded me of the many sterile modern apartments that I lived in in my mid 20s. There were three girls flitting about and drinking, despite it being early in the afternoon. Soon they were pulling their clothes off and dancing around, Then my roommate came home, though he isn't one of my current roommates and in fact I can't actually remember living with this guy before. He brought tacos and for some reason threw a couple of them at me, which splattered all over the carpet. In the back of my mind I still wanted to go running, so I announced that I would after I cleaned the carpet...even though at this point I realized that I was dreaming and needed to wake up. Still, as I sprayed cleaner on an guacamole splattered carpet that only existed somewhere between the synapses of my unconscious mind the roommate in my dream asked me, "How can you be yourself all the time?"
"Just be yourself, it's not that hard," I replied, spotting green goop up with a paper towel.
"That's a bullshit answer. Seriously, how do you get these girls and all these friends of yours to hang out?"
"Just being me. I gotta go running." I said blandly, then woke up and rolled out of bed.
On the sidewalks and paths of a local park I pondered the dream. My answer was bullshit. The real answer is "Fuck 'em." Do not worry about what people think. You can do that all day long and every conclusion you come to can easily be wrong, and if it's not who cares anyway. The second part of the answer is that I'm frequently not myself. I don't even know who that person is. I'm a scared little boy hoping that someone will tell me what to do so that I can get a pat on the back and a cookie.
It's about this time in my ruminations, a common pastime as I huff around the pavement, that a song came on my headphones which kinda laid it all to rest. I've been listening to Crooked Fingers pretty non-stop for about the last six months without really knowing why I'd been so entranced. This may be the first time that I'd really really listened to the lyrics.
Dignity and Shame
Cover me in mud and leaves
I won't be the one to fail you
I'm a thousand gargoyles standing by your window
To be sure there ain't no cure
There could be no one to save you
When the bad boys come to do you in again
So when they tell you things that you don't want to know
Or take you back to places you don't want to go
You've got to bury that knife
Keep your face in the light
Because there's one thing that they cannot do
Is take from you what you keep in mud and leaves
And if you walk, walk away, save yourself, you've got something to lose
And if you give what they take, you can bet they will take it from you
You're not the same as the day that you came
You can choose dignity or shame
You've got to bury your bones where you want in the ground
Where they will not be found by the leeches you're keeping alive
There's a man in your hand
And he's got nothing good to sell you
And he's smashing a violin against your bed
To be sure there ain't no cure
He comes creeping back to beg you
As thousand gargoyles crash into his head
And then that feeling comes you've been here once before
That wicked feeling you don't want to feel no more
You've got to bury that knife
That you keep stuck in your side
Before they dig that knife into you
And break into what you keep out of their reach
And if you walk, walk away, save yourself, you've got nothing to prove
And if you give what they take, you can bet they will take it from you
You're not the same as the day that you came
You can choose dignity or shame
You've got to carry your heart like a torch in the night
Little keeper of light burning deep, burning bright in the dark
Somehow it summed up that which constantly holds me back and holds me back. My constant struggle to paint a pretty face on what ever it is that I hide away from the rest of the world as it slowly kills me from the inside for want of air and light, for want of showing the world my true colors instead of a bland and doctored facade that I think is what people want to see. I don't want to exercise because I don't want people to see me jiggling down the sidewalk. I don't write what I want because I'm convinced it won't be "real" or that people won't like it. I drink and party and follow others lead because that's what the people want to see me. They want to see me struggling to stand and yet still throwing ping-pong balls at beer cups. Why do I give up so easily on my life and struggle so hard to keep up the life others see?
That's a bullshit answer. Any real answer is going to be written in a language of past accomplishments and present well-being that I may well never possess. But I can keep running.
February 12th, 2009
So the other day I was surfing through the webs, checking the comics and other friend's blogs, I thought about starting my own blog...and then realized that I already had one and hadn't updated it in a coon's age. That's pretty terrible to forget that I have a blog at all. I mean I know it's been awhile, but geeez.
That being said what has happened recently? Nothing...or actually many interesting things, but none that do not shine a light on, however inadvertently, the basic shame and guilt behind my continued unemployment and general failure to be productive at all.
See, it's rough to avoid.
Later
That being said what has happened recently? Nothing...or actually many interesting things, but none that do not shine a light on, however inadvertently, the basic shame and guilt behind my continued unemployment and general failure to be productive at all.
See, it's rough to avoid.
Later
January 28th, 2009
The latter first. I joined Facebook last week after who knows how many people pestering me to do so. I have barely done anything with my page other than crop a picture of me that was on a friends account so I had a picture in the profile and turn off all of the email notifications that I could. Yet I already have 3 friend invites from people that I went to high school with and haven't seen in about a decade. One of the things that I dislike about the so-called social networking pages is that everyone wants to be your friend, and by doing so friendship ceases to have much meaning at all. Should I include these people from high school that were once friends, but now are probably more enigmatic to me than belly-button lint. If I do include them then that opens the door for everyone the has ever known me to link to my Facebook page in an orgy of mediocrity. If I don't add them I run the risk of offending people that I have no real reason to offend. It is a veritably quandary of truly miniscule and unimportant proportions. This is why I never wanted one of these damn things in the first place. Bah!
As for facing life, not so good. I did apply for a job today that I saw posted on Craigslist, so I suppose that's a start at something. But I still can't work up the nerve, or whatever, to march out my door resume in hand and pop into any of the neighborhood bars looking for work. It just isn't happening. My excuse today was the inch of snow on the ground. Tomorrow it will be something else I am sure. Some other bullshit reason to stay in my house sitting in my house and not go get a job that I am most people that know me have every reason to believe I will both enjoy and be pretty darn good at. SSDD really. If this were a musical I'd break into a woeful song about now called Someday My Head Will Be Pulled From My Ass.
As for facing life, not so good. I did apply for a job today that I saw posted on Craigslist, so I suppose that's a start at something. But I still can't work up the nerve, or whatever, to march out my door resume in hand and pop into any of the neighborhood bars looking for work. It just isn't happening. My excuse today was the inch of snow on the ground. Tomorrow it will be something else I am sure. Some other bullshit reason to stay in my house sitting in my house and not go get a job that I am most people that know me have every reason to believe I will both enjoy and be pretty darn good at. SSDD really. If this were a musical I'd break into a woeful song about now called Someday My Head Will Be Pulled From My Ass.
January 13th, 2009
Well let's see...what's to write about today. I should make a random grab bag of topics to cover should I ever be at a loss of what to write, as I frequently am actually.
For lack of something else coming to mind a short tale of my Sunday. I woke up before the alarm, as sacrilegious as it may same to use such a thing on a Sunday, because Fat Bastard was living up to his name and demanding my attention loudly. Then my phone rang. It was Succubus calling as I was supposed to help her move that day. Plans had changed slightly, of course, and I was suddenly on the hook not only to provide manual labor but also to drive the truck around. Obviously she was desperate.
Around 10:30am we pick up the truck, thankfully a Budget Rental and not one from the thrice damned U-Haul company, and I drive it back to her soon to be former residence in Vancouver while she goes to pick up someone else to help...from Gresham. Predictably I beat her there. While I waited I even managed to get one of her neighbors to move her van so that the moving truck could be better parked. Then I waited some more. I wasn't the only one either, as there was a woman in a black Honda that was also parked on the street just hanging out. After awhile she drove away and still I waited. Finally, sometime near noon Succubus finally shows up with her friend and an empty cell phone battery. This proved more than inconvenient as the woman in the black Honda was apparently a friend of her's that came to help but then left when she couldn't reach Succubus. Of course said friend also didn't manage to put together me in the moving truck with moving, so I don't know if it was much of a loss.
Minutes later a couple more people show up and the work begins. While fairly well organized Succubus still had way too much crap; 4 tall bookshelves worth of books, a full bedroom set of heavy furniture, all kinds of craft and sewing equipment including a cast iron serger bolted to a heavy wooden table, a 100 lbs. heavy bag, and half a ton or more of other miscellaneous stuff. And only 5 people to move it all, me, Succubus, a tall amazon woman, her husband, and this lanky skinny dude. Needless to say I got at least one end of the heavy things. Loading took until nearly three and all of my tetris trained space shifting expertise to get everything that needed to go into the truck inside it without having to make a second trip. Already tired, and regretting that I'd skipped breakfast, we finally took off for John's Landing where everything had to be unloaded.
I parked the truck on the street next to the duplex and we went to lunch at the nearby Corbett Fish house which is even better when someone else is buying. About 4 we got back to it which first meant backing the truck up a steep doublewide driveway with cars on one side and a building on the other. I measured it out and figured I had about 11 inches of space to spare. Easy! Or at least it was with spotters. Unloading became a death march up the 30 yard winding stair laden path from the truck to the front door and then down the stairs with a 180 degree turn in the middle to the basement level where most everything went. We lost the couple around 5:30 after moving the last of the heavy furniture. The rest of the boxes took the remaining three of us until 7:30ish to unload, painfully dragging them two or three at a time on the moving truck up the stairs only to hand them off to someone else to haul them back down into the basement.
Then we trucked across town to load up Succubus' new roommate and her stuff. Did I mention that? Yeah. This was a double move. Fortunately she had much fewer things, only one piece of heavy furniture, and the drive over there gave me enough time to get a second wind. To make a long story only slightly shorter we finally dropped off the truck at close to 11 and I finally got home, utterly exhausted and ready to just crawl into bed.
Of course I still played LOTRO for 2 hours. Yes, I am an idiot.
For lack of something else coming to mind a short tale of my Sunday. I woke up before the alarm, as sacrilegious as it may same to use such a thing on a Sunday, because Fat Bastard was living up to his name and demanding my attention loudly. Then my phone rang. It was Succubus calling as I was supposed to help her move that day. Plans had changed slightly, of course, and I was suddenly on the hook not only to provide manual labor but also to drive the truck around. Obviously she was desperate.
Around 10:30am we pick up the truck, thankfully a Budget Rental and not one from the thrice damned U-Haul company, and I drive it back to her soon to be former residence in Vancouver while she goes to pick up someone else to help...from Gresham. Predictably I beat her there. While I waited I even managed to get one of her neighbors to move her van so that the moving truck could be better parked. Then I waited some more. I wasn't the only one either, as there was a woman in a black Honda that was also parked on the street just hanging out. After awhile she drove away and still I waited. Finally, sometime near noon Succubus finally shows up with her friend and an empty cell phone battery. This proved more than inconvenient as the woman in the black Honda was apparently a friend of her's that came to help but then left when she couldn't reach Succubus. Of course said friend also didn't manage to put together me in the moving truck with moving, so I don't know if it was much of a loss.
Minutes later a couple more people show up and the work begins. While fairly well organized Succubus still had way too much crap; 4 tall bookshelves worth of books, a full bedroom set of heavy furniture, all kinds of craft and sewing equipment including a cast iron serger bolted to a heavy wooden table, a 100 lbs. heavy bag, and half a ton or more of other miscellaneous stuff. And only 5 people to move it all, me, Succubus, a tall amazon woman, her husband, and this lanky skinny dude. Needless to say I got at least one end of the heavy things. Loading took until nearly three and all of my tetris trained space shifting expertise to get everything that needed to go into the truck inside it without having to make a second trip. Already tired, and regretting that I'd skipped breakfast, we finally took off for John's Landing where everything had to be unloaded.
I parked the truck on the street next to the duplex and we went to lunch at the nearby Corbett Fish house which is even better when someone else is buying. About 4 we got back to it which first meant backing the truck up a steep doublewide driveway with cars on one side and a building on the other. I measured it out and figured I had about 11 inches of space to spare. Easy! Or at least it was with spotters. Unloading became a death march up the 30 yard winding stair laden path from the truck to the front door and then down the stairs with a 180 degree turn in the middle to the basement level where most everything went. We lost the couple around 5:30 after moving the last of the heavy furniture. The rest of the boxes took the remaining three of us until 7:30ish to unload, painfully dragging them two or three at a time on the moving truck up the stairs only to hand them off to someone else to haul them back down into the basement.
Then we trucked across town to load up Succubus' new roommate and her stuff. Did I mention that? Yeah. This was a double move. Fortunately she had much fewer things, only one piece of heavy furniture, and the drive over there gave me enough time to get a second wind. To make a long story only slightly shorter we finally dropped off the truck at close to 11 and I finally got home, utterly exhausted and ready to just crawl into bed.
Of course I still played LOTRO for 2 hours. Yes, I am an idiot.
So I've been trying to maintain a bedtime of no later than 2am, which may sound outrageous, but trust me it is far earlier than I would "normally" go to be if I just waited until I was tired...which for me means waiting until I am utterly exhausted and then holding back the sleep for another hour or so. I've also coupled this with getting up around 9, so it's not like I'm being incredibly slothful here, just trying to find a working pattern that matched my messed up circadian rhythm and daylight. Anywho, going to bed earlier seems to be counterproductive to writing blog posts. Sorry about that. Obviously I need to find a better time to ticky-tap out my paragraphs than at the end of the day.
And now it's bedtime. Bah! The days just ain't long enough. I need to find a planet with 27 hour days and a way to migrate there.
Later
And now it's bedtime. Bah! The days just ain't long enough. I need to find a planet with 27 hour days and a way to migrate there.
Later